Can't Fight This - ON HOLD
by JourneyWithMe
Summary: AU: Catherine's a fighter. She's always had to be. But she's lost something along the way, her ability to love or let herself be loved. And now a chance meeting with a ludicrously enticing stranger outside a nightclub has her worried that she's in danger of having her walls knocked down brick by brick. How far will she go to protect herself from his allure?
1. Chapter 1 - Hard to ignore

**_AN:_** _Hello lovelies. This is a very AU oriented tale. I must warn you I will be taking quite a bit of creative license with our beloved characters here (e.g. V is not a beast in this story, however he still has his share of demons (And he's Canadian lol). Cat's parent's won't be the same ones from the show because I didn't want to attach anything negative to them etc.). You may notice some slight character tweaks - but they will certainly still be recognisable. I'd love some feedback about how you feel with this. If you like, leave a note in a review or PM me._

 _ **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters_

 _Happy reading!_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1 - Hard to ignore_**

* * *

This wasn't Catherine's idea of the perfect night out. But she had at least enough social skill to know that when a sister was celebrating their birthday, she should cheerfully chug along. For Catherine, cheerfully was the hardest part.

That ridiculous 'boots with the furrr' song was blaring. It always seemed to cause a warm blooded woman armed with a dance floor to completely let loose. Catherine never could understand it.

She could barely make out what Heather was saying in her usual perky, larger than life manner. She was urging Catherine to get up and dance with her. Catherine didn't dance at clubs, of coarse. The clubbing scene didn't attract the type of men she wished to have stalking her with their unrelenting eyes. Reluctantly though, she got up. Even _she_ wasn't beyond using common courtesies. It was Heather's 25th birthday and Catherine didn't want to dampen her night; Heather cared a lot about what Catherine thought. Besides, no one could resist Heather's trademark puppy dog expression. Not even Catherine – the self trained emotional robot.

"You look amazing Catherine! About time I see you out of those hideous long kick boxing shorts!"

Catherine self-consciously brushed over her sleeveless jade buttoned up shirt and tapered black shorts. She forced herself to move to the beat, feeding off Heather's energy. She certainly felt out of her element, though she hid it well. The swarms of vultures had already begun to plan their attack strategy. What was it about her that always attracted unwanted attention? Her uncommonly sculpted body? If you asked her, it was just a body; with the same legs that carried all able-bodied people through life, with the same breasts simply designed to feed an infant. She actually expected the way she looked – thanks to years of Muay Thai training – to be a deterrent.

 _She couldn't breathe, she needed out_.

"Want a drink Heath? girls?"

Catherine wrapped her arm around her bopping friend and offered a feign smile to the group. The girls were too engrossed in the music to take notice, and of coarse they were, they were warm-blooded women equipped with a dance floor. One discreet eye roll later, Catherine darted over to the bar for a drink.

"Coke, please." She shouted over the music and was still hardly audible.

The bartender returned Catherine's request with a puzzled look before handing her the drink. She hadn't been very interested in drinking anything harder than that these days. She preferred to keep her floodgates firmly shut, and was alcohol never helpful. Catherine always kept her composure; otherwise her defenses would surely crumble.

She took a sip of her much-craved beverage and rested her forearms on the bar. She peered at the young women and men around her; that is, women with skirts so short they could be charged for indecent exposure, and men with shirts unbuttoned at least three buttons too low.

And then she saw something else.

It felt like she was standing outside on a cold overcast day while the sun pierced through the clouds, warming her face and causing her to turn to admire it's soothing effect.

She gazed at him, her eyes unwilling to part from the sight of him. Her body slowly perked up when she became aware of the tingling reaction she was having in a place that hadn't been awakened for a long, long time.

Catherine looked away from the man's exquisite large hazel eyes that pierced through her when she realised she was gawking.

 _It didn't suit her, she wasn't that girl_.

It didn't take long for her to look straight back though. Her eyes traced his strong chiseled jaw line and the soft light brown hair that was combed away from his face.

But when she finally looked back into his eyes, when she really actually looked at him, she realised that this beautiful man was gazing straight back at her, as though he'd been examining her for a while. Catherine knew that look all too well, but from him she welcomed and reciprocated it.

 _She was being completely shallow, she wasn't… that… girl._

His inviting mouth hinted at a suppressed grin.

 _Chocolate-coated strawberries._

Why couldn't Catherine stop thinking about chocolate-coated strawberries? She looked away again into her drink. She took a sip.

 _This was ridiculous, Catherine was being ridiculous._

This was not strong, dismissive Catherine standing in her black stilettos; this was a fiery woman who submitted to her primal instinct.

"Catherine!" The tipsy birthday girl twirled her way through the crowd toward the bar. "Get your ass back here! My favorite song is playing. _Bang bang into the room!"_ she belted completely off key.

"Don't be a party pooper and poop all over my party!"

Heather looked somewhat irritated, but not surprised that Catherine would take any opportunity to have escaped.

Back on the dance floor and Catherine still couldn't ignore that it had taken a stranger all of one minute to penetrate her armor and fill her with want. She forced herself to remember that men and her didn't get along. Three failed relationships taught her that. They wanted her for her looks. They wanted more once they got a taste. But they always hit a brick wall when they wanted the level of affection Catherine couldn't give, that she was too damaged to give. Why would this be any different?

Catherine noticed a big grizzly looking man advancing towards her, trying to make his moves. He strutted through like God's gift to women. Catherine returned his brutish attempts to entice her with a cold shoulder, but he wasn't letting up. Catherine knew her tolerance limit was small, and her fist would find it's way onto his bulbous nose sooner rather than later. She tried to escape to the ladies room to avoid causing a scene, making her way alone. He blocked her path and was now more assertive in his advances. He gripped her arm and Catherine immediately tensed.

"Come on you sexy thing. Let me show you what I can do. You won't regret it".

He reeked of bourbon and exuded desperation. Catherine eyeballed a security guard standing near the toilets, and sure enough he came to her rescue. The security guard was not much for words; he walked forward into the sleaze until they were both out of her sight. The most infuriating part of it was that while all of this was occurring, Catherine was entertaining the thought of that stranger from the bar being the one to have rescued her.

She made her way outside to get some fresh air. She thought she'd pushed passed her comfort zone long enough. Catherine checked the time 1.45am, _already?_ She was getting very tired, very quickly and desired for this night to be over.

Catherine noticed some heavy footsteps pounding the stairs of the main entry coming toward her. He'd followed her out, the sleaze ball. Apparently calling on a security guard wasn't a clear enough rejection. Catherine attempted to turn away and leave but he took a hold of her arm again. She looked down at his hand with disgust.

"I know you want me, I can tell by the way you look at me. Fuck you're hot, come here" he blurted before Catherine could open her mouth to abuse the fumbling oaf for laying a hand on her.

Adrenaline began pumping through her veins the way it did in the ring before a fight. She wanted to hurt this man.

"You have no idea how bad I could hurt you."

Catherine's threats were no deterrent.

"Fiesty. I like it." He laughed.

Before she attempted to strike him down, she noticed somebody behind the blundering beast. _It was him._ The gorgeous bar-goer tapped the aggressor on his shoulder and grabbed his shirt collar.

"Do you really think a woman like that would come to a club without her man, _fuck face?_ "

The sleaze was visibly jolted by the strength in his grasp and raised his arms in surrender. He unashamedly took another long look at Catherine before stumbling off back into the club.

Catherine's heartbeat picked up pace and her body temperature rose. There he stood in all his glory, wearing dark washed jeans and a white linen v-neck shirt revealing lean ripped forearms. He was an icy cold glass of water on a scorching hot day. Catherine's mind began to venture past the boundaries of his shirt and she was losing herself in the thought.

"Hello." He smiled wide and Catherine's lips parted ever so slightly, in silent admiration.

"Hi." She returned, not nearly as welcoming, not quite sure how to reciprocate his warmth.

"Are you alright?" His Canadian accent, although subtle, struck her. His tone was deep and gritty.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I mean, lucky I'd never come to a club without my man. Right?" she teased.

He snickered under his breath and stepped in closer, leaving an arms length between them.

"Well that's how they do it in the movies isn't it? And it worked." He explained matter-of-factly.

Catherine ran her hand through her long black ponytail, trying to release some nervous tension, trying very hard to come across unaffected.

"That _fool_ was eyeing you out all night… like everybody else in that club."

"Like you." Catherine injected.

"You got me there… to be honest, I couldn't help it. I tried to, believe me, but as a man who appreciates exquisite things, it was hard to ignore you." His tone was tender, as though he knew Catherine well.

Catherine giggled.

She immediately bit down on her full maple colored bottom lip, scalding herself. One complement and she was behaving like a crush-ridden schoolgirl.

His smile returned, this time Catherine noticed the prominent dimple on his right cheek that charmingly framed his grin. He referred to Catherine as exquisite, though he was the very incarnation of it.

"I'm Vincent, by the way."

He offered his hand, and Catherine took it. Her chest quaked with a shallow inhale. Never had a stranger's hand felt so good over hers.

"Catherine." She replied, their hands still entwined.

" _Catherine."_ he repeated, cracking a wickedly sexy smile and taking a step closer toward her. She breathed in his cool fresh scent.

At this point, Catherine was pretty certain that she'd given up all hope of redemption. This man – _Vincent –_ was going to get under her skin and live there until he'd done sufficient damage.

* * *

 **AN: Intrigued? Review! xox**


	2. Chapter 2 - Close call

**_AN:_** Hello! Welcome to the second instalment. We're edging closer to the M rating everyone, and when I say closer I mean next chapter. So readers, make sure your search filters are set to 'sizzling' for chapter 3!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 2: Close call_**

* * *

Heather stormed out of the club, looking as though she'd been on the hunt for Catherine a while.

"Catherine! There you are! I was wondering wher–"

Heather came to a halt when she finally noticed – through the thick of her inebriated senses – who had been standing in front Catherine. Her face lit up with a sheepish grin and she winked without a single ounce of discretion. Catherine felt the heat start generating in the tips of her ears.

"Heatherny, thanks for a great night, but I'm tired. I need to go home, get some sleep."

"Of coarse Cat. You go on home and… get some sleep. _We'll talk tomorrow_."

She gestured toward Vincent with obvious approval spread over her face. Catherine knew that Heather's positive view on life meant that she thought Catherine would be doing much more than talk with this man and finally end her… _drought_. She had to admit, the thought entered her mind, but that's what it would have to remain, a thought.

Heather disappeared back into the club and once again Catherine was left standing alone with Vincent.

"Sorry… about that."

Vincent's smile hadn't faded, in fact, he looked sufficiently amused.

"How are you getting home?"

He looked at Catherine with what seemed to be a hunger gleaming from his sparkling eyes. Catherine knew the look, because it was exactly how she would eye a cheeseburger when she was dieting to prepare for a fight. He was making this very, very hard for her.

 _Just one night._

She could have one night of sinful fun with a sexy stranger, couldn't she?

 _No… the answer was definitely no._

"Taxi" she finally replied, fighting the urge to tell him to take her home and have his way with her.

Disapproval was etched in the lines of his handsome face.

"No, that definitely won't do. I have a perfectly good car, and it's not metered. Let me take you home."

"That's really not necessary. I don't… I mean… I don't want you to get the wrong impression."

Catherine's body betrayed her verbal objection; it swayed ever so slightly towards Vincent. He stepped in closer, his stare fixated on Catherine's lips before finding their way back to her emerald eyes. Catherine wasn't sure that she could refuse him again if he asked her to reconsider.

"No funny business Catherine, I promise. Just looking out for a fellow human being."

The way he looked at her – _damn him_ – caused Catherine to lose all rationality.

"Ok. But if you break that promise, I might have to show you how well I can look after myself."

Vincent raised his brow in feign surprise.

"You're on."

* * *

"Turn left here"

Catherine gazed out of the window, trying hard not look at Vincent. She couldn't possibly handle being next to this man for much longer if she had any hope of staying away from temptation. She looked around his car, trying to distract herself. It was in pristine condition, she couldn't locate a single piece of rubbish, not a spot nor blemish.

"See? I'm behaving myself, aren't I Catherine?"

He peered over at her for a second before returning his attention to the road.

"So far so good."

Catherine saw his smile from the corner of her eye while staring straight ahead, and she could've sworn the car became just that little brighter. He was warm and inviting, yet she couldn't loosen up, she couldn't let his warmth melt the icicles that encased her. She didn't know how.

"I mean, you scared me a little when you told me you could _look after yourself._ "

Catherine finally offered Vincent a singe glance.

"Well I'm obligated to warn you, by law. Being a kick boxer and all."

Catherine smirked. It was no secret, She didn't much like who she was, but she was proud of her strength, of the fight she had in her.

Vincent's eyes widened and he navigated Catherine's body.

"That explains your perfectly sculpted figure. That's a pretty serious hobby."

"Actually, it's my profession." Catherine clarified.

Vincent sat quiet, expressionless.

"That's... _so fucking hot._ "

That was _not_ the response Catherine was used to, and it turned her on in a major way.

Usually a man's reaction to this news was tied to intimidation, as though Catherine was stealing away their manhood.

They made eye contact for the first time since getting in the car. They looked at each other for a long while, longer than anyone should when driving. He wanted her; she could see it clear as day, and whatever effort he was making up until this point to mask it seemed to be fading now.

Vincent's eyes darted back to the road and Catherine was the one left watching him.

"Can I ask why?"

Catherine felt uneasy. She looked down at her hands and inspected her knuckles.

"Well, I've always had to fight my way through life, and Muay Thai gave me a focus, a drive. It helped me channel my anger and my fear..."

 _Catherine shut your mouth._

She was delving into matters she didn't wish to make known. This man made her feel stripped and bare, and it went against every grain of her being.

Vincent's playful demeanour dimmed, the happy creases around his eyes faded.

"Do you want to know why I couldn't stop watching you at the bar Catherine? Why I couldn't ignore you?"

Catherine's silence was Vincent's cue to continue.

"It was your eyes. I was so drawn to them. But as beautiful as they are, something was missing. That spark most people have before they've… given up. I've seen it enough times to know… And I was thinking to myself, 'how can a woman _so mesmerizing,_ have that look in her eyes?'"

Catherine's heart ceased – as much as she thought he was wrong about her – it felt like it had completely stopped for at least a few beats. She wanted to lash out, to put him in his place. But her mind kept hanging onto the words he'd used so naturally, so convincingly, to describe her.

 _Beautiful, mesmerising._

"Is that what you tell all the girls you pick up from clubs? I bet it works a charm for those damsel in distress types."

"The girls that I pick up from clubs?"

Vincent chuckled and shook his head. Catherine looked at him curiously. She failed to understand the joke. He looked at her, his mouth still wide with amusement.

"If you knew me, you'd laugh too."

"You're right, I _don't_ know you. And you don't know me either, so please don't pretend to–"

"Am I wrong? About you, about what I see in you?" he interrupted.

 _Was he? Probably not._

Once again, cat got her tongue. She had nothing to say. Usually she was the dominating presence, but for Vincent, well, right now she was no contest.

"It's the house on the right. Just here."

Catherine was relieved that the interrogation was over. She wasn't sure how much her soul was willing to bear to this perfect stranger. But damn, she didn't want him to leave. He sparked her interest, pleased every one of her senses.

"Ok well, bye Catherine."

There he went, saying her name again _in that way_. He stared at her with a fire too bright to ignore, and she was a moth to a flame. She subconsciously bit her bottom lip and Vincent instantly reacted, breathing in deeply and releasing his breath with an almost inaudible hum. Catherine released a shallow breath and reached for the seatbelt. She wondered how she was going to manage entering her house. She was sure her legs would give in under the pressure from the peaking sensation between them.

"Thanks for the ride."

Catherine felt the warmth of Vincent's fingertips on her cheek. He turned her face back to him before she could get out of the car.

"Catherine, do you really think I'm going to let you get out of this car without asking to see you again?"

"You want to see me again…"

"Mhmm."

His fingers were now removed from her cheek, though the electricity from their tips still surged through her. She fished for the phone in her handbag and handed it to him. He smiled softly as he punched in his phone number and slipped the phone back into her bag.

" _Use it."_ He uttered with a firm insistence. "Any time, any day."

Catherine stepped out and looked back, unsure whether to wave goodbye or drag him into her house by the collar. A wave seemed to be the saner choice.

* * *

Catherine woke up heavy headed, her initial thought was _food_. She was famished. She noticed the time on her bedside clock.

 _13:07_

She reached for her phone on the bedside table.

 _Wait a minute, she hadn't put her phone there last night._

She searched furiously through her bag. _Not there either._ Catherine froze, eyes wide and mouth open when she realized the only place it could be. It mustn't have made it into her bag after Vincent had used it to save his number…

 _Vincent._

This was practically an invitation for him to come over. Catherine rushed into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She threw her hair messily into a high bun and washed the sleep out of her eyes. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to see him again, to feel vulnerable again. She entered the kitchen and ripped open a muesli bar. She scoffed it down quickly, followed by a glass of cold milk. She didn't know why she was in such a rush on a lazy Sunday, but what she did know was that she had butterflies relentlessly performing acrobatics in her belly.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Catherine wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist and shot her head toward the direction of the front door.

 _It couldn't be, already?_

"Vincent. Hey. Sorry, my phone, right?"

Catherine was cursing inside, He looked better – if at all possible – than he had last night. His hair sat loosely to the right, the stubble on his face complemented the masculine sharpness of his jaw, his sculpted chest teased her through his grey fitted t-shirt.

She instinctively hid most of her body behind the door, all of a sudden conscious of her oversized Nike t-shirt and pantless clad self…

 _Pantless. She answered the door half naked. How the hell did she miss that?_

"Hey. Listen I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but your phone was in my car so I thought I'd drop it off as soon as I had the chance."

His tongue lingered on the last sound of his final word. He'd noticed the lack of cloth around her bare legs. He ran the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip and stifled a grin. His eyes travelled back up and met Catherine's horrified gaze.

"Yeah ah… I just woke up. Give me, give me a second."

But she didn't move, she was transfixed by Vincent's lust filled expression. He walked forward through the door and entered the short hallway. Catherine stepped backward, keeping her distance.

"Should I wait outside? Or can I... come in?"

His voice was deep and inviting, his wanting expression was unchanged.

"Yeah just come straight through. Don't mind that I'm not decent."

Her sarcasm didn't deter him.

"Not decent? Catherine you look…"

Vincent raked his hands through his hair. He looked conflicted, there was a battle going on inside him. Catherine was well acquainted with the feeling, so she knew it when she saw it.

He took Catherine's phone out of the pocket of his jeans and handed it to her.

"Your phone."

"Thanks."

Their bodies edged closer, their voices became quieter. Catherine had to put an end to this. As much as she wanted to give in to Vincent, she knew it was futile.

"Vincent, I'm not the type of woman you should be interested in."

"I want to kiss you…"

Vincent closed the gap between them. Their chests were almost touching.

"Listen to me, you're wasting your time."

Catherine's warning came across less than convincing.

"… _So bad_." Vincent ignored.

His nose gently brushed against hers. Catherine didn't move away, her body didn't give her permission to.

"Vincent you don't know me." She whispered.

"Then let me know you."

He pulled back and looked her intently. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers tickling her skin on their way, teasing every one of her senses.

"Will you let me…" His lips slowly approached hers. "…know you?"

Her mouth parted. She was losing this fight. Losing herself. Her wall was giving in. And all it took was the threat of a kiss. A kiss she wanted desperately.

"Cat! Do you ever answer your damn pho–"

Heather stormed in through the door, not caring to knock – as per usual – but she stopped almost as quickly, staring at Catherine and Vincent at the end of the hallway. Catherine stepped away from Vincent as though she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Heather! What are you doing here?"

"Oh my God he hasn't left yet?" Heather noticed Catherine's lack of clothing and smiled broadly.

"What? No. I left my phone in his car after he gave me a lift home. He, Vincent, came past to return it."

Heather rolled her eyes, and shifted her attention to Vincent, who'd dropped his head and breathed out a sharp breath.

"No really." He looked up and forced a smile Heather's way. "I just came past for a minute. I better get going anyway."

Vincent left without a single glance back.

"Damn Catherine, he is _fine_. I can't believe you didn't invite him in between those sexy legs of yours. I mean I know you're all _'lonely is my middle name'_ and everything, but come on, even _you_ have to feel _something_ around a man like that."

"Heather!"

Catherine wasn't going to have this conversation with her.

"And why the hell aren't you wearing any pants? Don't you know it's shameful to tease him like that? Or, wait a minute… were you guys getting started before I walked in? Oh shit you were" Heather chuckled, "sorry babe."

" _Heather!_ "

Catherine opted to walk away, expressing her frustrations under her breath while walking into her bedroom to get changed.

"Ooh. What's this? Cat?"

Heather called out before walking into Catherine's room. Heather handed her a silver pen.

"It was in the hallway."

 _Vincent's pen._ It must've dropped when he took her phone out of his pocket. She smiled to herself, leaving things behind had already become a habit for them. Catherine inspected it more closely. It looked pricey enough to raise questions as to why someone would be carrying it in their pocket. It was engraved with an inscription.

 _'_ _The power of the pen is more valiant than the power of artillery'_

What did that mean? Catherine knew what it meant, obviously. But what did it _mean_ , for Vincent? One thing she did know for sure was that this pen meant she'd definitely have to see him again. This also meant that Vincent could explain why he went from wanting to kiss Catherine 'so bad', to high-tailing it out of her house in less than a second.

* * *

 **AN:** sorry for the tease, but seriously, no interruptions = no VINCAT! Ok Give me some love and tell me what you thought :)


	3. Chapter 3 - Who I am

**AN:** Not much plot progression in this chapter but it is an important one nonetheless. Hope you like where it leads! please let me know what you think.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3: Who I am**_

* * *

 _Thump._

Catherine's shin pummelled into the swinging punching bag. The sunset's fiery hue draped her through the open garage door.

 _Thump._

Vincent had said he'd be over after work for his pen. She couldn't bear to just sit and wait for him to arrive. She had to dispel this maddening tension.

 _Thump, smack._

Her calloused fist crafted another dent into the taught fabric of the bag. The way she felt right now, so anxious and affected, forced unwanted thoughts – unwelcomed memories – to surface.

The image of her mother's conceited expression kept surfacing, no matter how hard she punched that damn bag. Her mom was more absorbed in herself to ever really notice Catherine, and she always tried to buy her way out of being a cold and unresponsive parent. But nothing could ever make up for her turning a blind eye to what that _husband_ of hers was up to. The lavish parties, the stunning dresses he'd insist Catherine wear. She was a pawn. She _let_ herself be. She was a different person back then; a young naive little teen. And where was her mother to put an end to it? _Where?_ Enjoying the money her husband made in gaining his valuable high paying clients, that's where.

Catherine shook the garage walls with a combo that would've dropped even the toughest opponent. Her chest rose and fell hard. Her breathing became audible as she supressed the tears itching at her lower eyelids.

"Hello."

Catherine's ponytail flicked her cheek as she turned her head toward the voice. Vincent stood with his shoulder resting against the garage entry.

"Wow..."

His large sapphire eyes watched her with a jolting intensity.

"You've got a lot of power in your roundhouse."

"You fight?"

A small spark of delight ignited Catherine's smile. Maybe he understood her world more than she'd realised.

"You could say that."

Vincent smirked, looking down at his combat boots before stepping forward. Catherine turned away, withdrawing from his spellbinding presence. She wanted to know more, but the more she knew about him probably meant the more she'd want him. Catherine decided she'd suffered enough emotional barrage for one afternoon.

She removed her wrist wraps and knocked back a bottle of chilled water.

She picked up the pen she'd placed next to her towel on a foldable table and walked towards him.

"Here you go."

She watched his hand as he reached out for the pen. It looked strong, capable, welcoming. She wanted to touch it, to bring it to her face and let it engulf her. Catherine was caught off guard when Vincent retracted his hand immediately after her fingertips grazed his palm.

She gazed up at his face. He looked different, engrossed by darkness.

"It's... It's very nice."

"Thanks."

Catherine was unsure how to behave, what to make of Vincent's sudden steely demeanour.

"We've really got to stop meeting like this."

Her attempts at humour were always met with either a sympathetic voiceless giggle, or a puzzled expression of those wondering if she was indeed trying her hand at a joke.  
However Vincent went with neither, offering her an indolent smile instead.

He placed the pen into his pocket without saying another word. She waited for him to fill in the blanks, explain the inscription, _say something_. But Instead, his expression was unsoftened, and his lips remained sealed.

Catherine furrowed her brow in confusion; this was not the same man that was standing in her hallway just yesterday.

Vincent folded his arms across his chest. Bulging biceps under his long sleeved khaki tee distracted Catherine from her puzzlement.

"Catherine."

"Hmmm?"

She looked up in haste as though caught red handed.

"Yesterday, I should never have..."

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Never have... what?"

No amount of bicep could distract Catherine now, not from the conversation she knew they were about to have.

"I shouldn't have come on to you like that. Who I am... I don't want to mess you around just because I can't control myself."

Catherine sniggered indignantly. She was insulted, _disappointed_. And she was sure that how she felt was displayed clearly on her face.

"So, what you're saying is, you're just here to pick up your pen."

"I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression."

Vincent ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered.

"The wrong impression? I've never seen anyone try as hard as you to make the wrong impression."

She stared him down, unable to show any indifference.

"You're angry."

Vincent's voice revealed some surprise.

"I don't care enough to be angry. A little irritated, maybe... Hey you know what? It's fine. Really. Because what _almost_ happened yesterday? I didn't care much for it anyway. So don't worry yourself."

Vincent took a step closer, as though coming in for a challenge.

"Is that so?"

Catherine stood her ground, not wavering at their closeness. She wouldn't be intimidated.

"Definitely."

She couldn't deny that she was disillusioned. How could she have already scared him off? She couldn't even make anything of the obtuse explanation he'd given her.

 _Who he was? Really?_

They stared at each other for the longest few seconds. Vincent shook his head and let out an audible breath.

"Look I don't want to do this."

"Then why are you still here?"

Vincent had no answer.

Catherine's body language, although aggressive, told another story and she knew it. Through all the bullshit she told herself about not wanting a man, not needing affection, about hating the way Vincent made her feel so vulnerable, she wanted it. She felt desperate for him to touch her, to finish what he'd started the day before. But she wasn't sure if that desperation was her defiant side begging to challenge him, or if it was just her primal side wanting a slice of him.

He watched her chest move to the rhythm of her sallow breath.

He stared at her parted lips. But not for long.

He planted his mouth onto hers like he'd been hungry for her. A rush of sensation flooded in below her navel and a moan escaped her lips. He pulled her body into his and slid his hand behind her neck, deepening the kiss. Catherine's body, her mind, felt an overwhelming arousal, and it trumped any anger she may have felt just minutes ago. Her indulgent tongue entered his mouth and found his. She wanted to know his taste, to satiate her craving. It had been so long since any part of her was pressed against a mans flesh. Vincent groaned and clenched her hair into his fist. Catherine's hands explored the outline of Vincent's back. He was a sculpture of perfection.

Vincent instantly released his grip on Catherine and broke what felt to be an unbreakable connection. He pushed himself away, no longer able to look at Catherine in the eyes.

" _Shìt_."

He rubbed his forehead and looked up at her. His eyes appeared glazed over with remorse.

"I'm sorry..."

Vincent walked away and didn't look back, leaving Catherine to soak in a pool of want. He came in like a hurricane, crashing through her with devastating force, then just dissipated into thin air. But Catherine was no storm chaser.


End file.
